Inspector Maigret

A new translation of Georges Simenon's gripping tale of lost identity. A man picked up for wandering in obvious distress among the cars and buses on the Grands Boulevards. Questioned in French, he remains mute... A madman? In Maigret's office, he is searched. His suit is new, his underwear is new, his shoes are new. All identifying labels have been removed. No identification papers. No wallet. Five crisp thousand-franc bills have been slipped into one of his pockets.

A new translation of Simenon's tense novel, audiobook fifteen in the Maigret series. "He recalled his travelling companion's agitated sleep - was it really sleep? - his sighs and his sobbing. Then the two dangling legs, the patent-leather shoes and hand-knitted socks... An insipid face. Glazed eyes. And Maigret was not surprised to see a grey beard eating into his cheeks...."

A new translation of Georges Simenon's devastating novel set on the French Riviera. It had a smell of holidays. The previous evening, in Cannes harbour, with the setting sun, had also had the smell of holidays, especially the Ardena, whose owner swaggered in front of two girls with gorgeous figures. Dazzled at first by the glamour of sunny Antibes, Maigret soon finds himself immersed in the less salubrious side of the Riviera, as he retraces the final steps of a local eccentric.

A new translation of Georges Simenon's novel set in a claustrophobic provincial town. Cars drove past along with the trucks and trams, but by now Maigret had realized that they were not important. Whatever roared by like this along the road was not part of the landscape. What really counted was the lock, the hooting of the tugs, the stone crusher, the barges and the cranes, the two pilots' bars, and especially the tall house where he could make out Ducrau's red chair framed by a window.

A new translation of this gripping novel which sees the inspector brought out of his peaceful retirement. Maigret shrugged his shoulders, buried his hands in his pockets and went off without answering. He had just spent one of the most wretched days in his life. For hours, in his corner he had felt old and feeble, without idea or incentive. But now a tiny flame flickered. 'You bet we'll see' he growled.

A new translation of this moving novel about the destructive power of greed. Poor Cécile! And yet she was still young. Maigret had seen her papers: barely 28 years old. But it would be difficult to look more like an old maid, to move less gracefully, in spite of the care she took to be friendly and pleasant. Those black dresses that she must make for herself from bad paper patterns, that ridiculous green hat!